


more than anything

by clizzyhours



Series: clizzyweek: the immortal wives [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Clizzy - Freeform, F/F, Post 3.22, Sapphic, Warnings inside, clary’s memory is all over the place, clizzy are in love, clizzyweek, parabatai!clizzy, soft, stream of thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 21:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20607752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clizzyhours/pseuds/clizzyhours
Summary: Clary has always loved Isabelle or the one where Clary and Isabelle always end find one another. Friends. Parabatai. Lovers.“Be my parabatai, she remembers asking.”Isabelle.





	more than anything

**Author's Note:**

> for dailyclizzysource’s clizzy week:  
day three: quote
> 
> warnings: canonical implied violence / blood / amnesia / scattered thoughts.
> 
> thank you so much and please enjoy!

“Isabelle, would you ever consider becoming my parabatai?  
I was thinking of asking you the very same thing.  
You were?  
You know, I always thought I never needed a parabatai, that I was at my best when I was on my own. But that was before I met you. Clary, I’d like nothing more than to have you as my parabatai.”  
—clary & isabelle 3.22

—

It’s take a year or two before Isabelle and Clary finally become parabatai. 

The loss of Clary’s memories rings empty and hallow at times like a quiet echo and it’s something she’s slowly carving out.

But it’s okay. She has Isabelle and Isabelle is a safe anchor during turbulence with her pretty red lips and soft dark eyes, the way she cradles her gently, and the rush of sheer love.

There are many pieces and fragments she’s slowly cultivating like broken ceramics struggling back together. Her mind is a struggle but Isabelle holds her and holds on deeply.

She remembers Isabelle’s smile and fierce but protective grip from the past, their fingers seeking one another during troublesome hours.

Isabelle defending her.

Isabelle. 

Be my parabatai, she remembers asking.

Isabelle.

I was thinking of the same exact thing, Isabelle said.

Isabelle.

She remembers a pulsing club and a glitzy dress and everything is your color, iz.

Blood drenched missions in between hazy bits and a tinted grief in between sparsity.

Always in unison and constant. She remembers always wanting to find Izzy. Where is Izzy? Isabelle? 

Where did my heart go?

She remembers finding drawings of a beautiful woman - an old sketchpad she can’t quite remembering owning but god, even her past herself knew.

She has always loved Isabelle like a quiet hum inside of her, unaware and growing like a creeping vine.

Isabelle is her heart.

Their ceremony is untraditional, Clary learns quickly, both of them far beyond the supposed age limit that the Clave has in place.

Why does that matter to even have an age limit?

You find friendship and family and love at so many ages, she thinks. Relationships do not stop. You discover them every single day of your life and cultivate news one and create moments with your old.

The Clave really doesn’t like nuance, huh.

Then again, Shadowhunters are supposed to hide their emotions? She vaguely remembers.

They die young, she recalls and yet that’s the only more reason to do what you want.

Clary breaks rules and rips foundations and she has zero regrets as she does this. It’s both a flaw and strength at once.

The Clave has tried to her stop previously and they have failed multiple times.

This parabatai ceremony? Yes. She’s goddamn getting it with Isabelle draped in a stunning sheath dress and a wicked smile- Head of the New York Institute indeed.

Isabelle destroys and rebuilds just as much as her.

She’s stunning, Clary thinks.

The ceremony is quiet and intimate with just them, lit candles brightening up the dim room. Angelic fire circles them and together, they unite as one heart and soul.

True soulmates, she thinks.

Their parabatai marks are encircled across their hips, protruding starkly. It’s both painful and a beginning.

Clary takes Isabelle by the hand and leads her out.

I love you, she says.


End file.
